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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29967123">shattered glass</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/emavee/pseuds/emavee'>emavee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dick &amp; Dami Week 2021 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, Gen, Hurt Damian Wayne, Hurt Dick Grayson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:42:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,643</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29967123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/emavee/pseuds/emavee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come on, Grayson,” Damian says, not even ashamed over the fact that he’s begging, and he's meant to be above such things. “Wake up. Please. Wake up, you idiot. You are better than this!”</p>
<p>For Dick &amp; Dami Week 2021: "Please don't leave me"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dick &amp; Dami Week 2021 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>shattered glass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first thing he recognizes is the incessant ringing in his ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gah.” Damian shakes his head, trying to clear it, but the action only serves to make him more dizzy. He settles instead for trying to blink away his blurring and warping vision, hoping that the ringing will fade on its own with some time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even once he manages to rid his eyesight of any lingering fuzz, the sight before him still doesn’t make a lot of sense. He’s in Grayson’s car, but the world outside the windows is warped, trees far too close and standing on their sides.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he remembers, the memories jolting him like a blow: the squeal of tires, Grayson’s arm flying out to press Damian back against his seat, blinding headlights, and then nothing. Darkness and pain that is pulsing in Damian’s head and prickling across his skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gray—” He coughs. “Grayson.” Turning his head should not be this hard. Damian is meant to be stronger than this. He’s meant to be ready for battle the moment he awakens, no matter the circumstances. His head pounds in protest of that idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he sees only makes the situation a thousand times worse. Grayson is slumped beside him, hanging awkwardly by his seatbelt and propped up by the arm of his seat. Blood drips from his head, matting his hair and, worse, staining his lips. His arm—the arm he’d thrown out to shield Damian—is bent in all the wrong places, the bone sticking through the skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grayson,” Damian calls again, voice stronger this time. “Wake up. Stop lazing about, Grayson!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grayson doesn’t move, doesn’t even groan. His eyes remain stubbornly closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn it,” Damian mutters. He’s on his own. Grayson needs him to get them both out of this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d left Bludhaven for Gotham around 4:00, hoping to arrive just in time for dinner before patrol after fighting through a couple hours of rush hour traffic. Father and Pennyworth would have been expecting them around 6:00, and judging by the way the sky is now streaked pink and orange, they’ll likely miss that deadline. Damian wonders how late they’d have to be for Father to worry enough to start looking for them. Probably at least a few hours; it’s not uncommon for Grayson to be late to these sorts of events, often getting sidetracked or becoming otherwise occupied with some sort of task in his own city. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, if Damian can find Grayson’s phone, then he can call Father and get medical help for Grayson. And himself, he decides, as a new wave of pain pulses through his skull.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damian fumbles for his own seatbelt. He’s disoriented enough that it takes a couple tries, but he eventually manages to get it open. He drops the last couple inches onto his side, barely managing to keep his head from bouncing sideways off of the window. Finally free, he clambers awkwardly up over the dashboard, climbing through the shattered front windshield and sliding down the hood of the car to fall into the damp dirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’ve rolled down the hill beside the highway, surely managing to clip a few trees on the way down. He gets shakily to his feet. Grayson’s car is totaled, a mess of dented, twisted metal and broken glass. He feels a pang of distress on Grayson’s behalf; he’d really liked that car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damian has no idea how long it’s been since they were driven off the road. It’s impossible to guess how long he was unconscious, although given the fact that the sun has not yet set, it couldn’t have been too long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then Damian notices the smoke coming off of the car, and suddenly timing gets a whole lot more important. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grayson,” he coughs once more, staggering to his feet. He has to get his brother out of there before the wrecked car goes up in flames.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Broken glass and sharp pieces of metal slice at the skin of his hands and arms as he reaches through the wreckage. He’s too short to really reach Grayson, but he kicks at the windshield until there’s a place for him to leverage his foot. Straining as far as he can, he manages to find the release for Grayson’s seatbelt. Fortunately, the device is not jammed and easily releases Grayson from his set. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, gravity exists, and Damian is unable to stop him from crashing head first onto the ground. Wincing slightly at the sight, Damian catches hold of Grayson’s arm and sets to work hauling him out of the broken windshield. It may just be a mistake; Damian could very well be making Grayson’s condition much, much worse. He already has a head wound, and Damian just dropped him onto his head, not to mention any neck or spinal injuries he might have. The task of extracting him from the ruined car slices and scrapes at his already bloodied skin. But the smoke is getting thicker and darker, and broken bones and whiplash are better than being torn to shreds in a fiery explosion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grayson,” Damian whispers, laying his brother out on the ground. His chest rises and falls shallowly, but his eyelids don’t so much as flutter. Damian wishes he had anything that could be used for first aid, but both of their clothes are too bloody and dirty to be used as bandages, and Damian has none of the technology that would be necessary to diagnose brain or spinal damage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He searches Grayson’s pockets, but he can’t locate the man’s cell phone anywhere. They are essentially stranded on the side of the road with no way to contact help. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No matter. Damian will get them both out of this situation, since Grayson insists on being absolutely no help at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come along, Grayson,” he mutters, crouching down to sling his brother’s good arm over his shoulders. Grayson’s body slumps limp across his back. Damian glances up at the steep hill in front of them, the road way at the top. In a normal situation, Damian would think nothing of the climb, but his head is still spinning and he has Grayson’s dead weight to haul with him. Something twists in his stomach at the sight. It’s not fear, because he refuses to be afraid of something as trivial as </span>
  <em>
    <span>geography, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but perhaps worry that the climb will jostle or jar Grayson’s injuries further than Damian already has.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But leaving Grayson behind is not an option. If the car explodes or bursts into flames, Grayson will be helpless if he is left alone down in the ravine, and should Damian manage to locate assistance from a passerby, they should surely see to Grayson first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damian has to get them both to the top of that hill. He will not leave Grayson behind, ever. Grayson would not leave him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Damian whispers, although he knows that Grayson cannot hear him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lets Grayson’s head fall sideways to rest against his neck. Hopefully it will remain there and relatively stable for the duration of the hill climbing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, Grayson. Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damian is grateful now for the harshness of his training with Mother. Grayson is ridiculously heavy, half dragging on the ground as Damian struggles to hold him. He has to stop several times when his blurring vision and spinning head threaten to send them both rolling back down the hill. Pain he hadn’t noticed before spikes up his left ankle, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, after several slow-moving minutes, Damian collapses to his knees at the top of the hill. The road is completely empty, proving Damian’s theory that the car that Grayson had to swerve to avoid had driven off without a thought. He glares at the tire tracks on the asphalt, wishing he had the other driver in front of him to teach a lesson to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surely someone will drive by soon, Grayson.” Hopefully before the sun finishes setting. It will be incredibly difficult to spot Damian and Grayson sitting on the edge of the road with nothing but the moonlight. Gotham needs better street lighting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does his best to get Grayson comfortable, laying him out on his back and, in an act of comfort that Damian would normally be far more hesitant to provide, settling his brother’s head in his lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brushes some of the blood-matted strands out of Grayson’s face, and is suddenly struck by how pale Grayson looks. The blood and bruising stand out starkly against the nearly-grey pallor of his face. His lips are pale and bloodless, further highlighting the trail of blood that leaks out from between them, painting his chin and neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grayson is bleeding internally, and Damian can do nothing about it. He may have even made it worse in his effort to get Grayson up the hill. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Grayson,” Damian says, not even ashamed over the fact that he’s begging, and he's meant to be above such things. “Wake up. Please. Wake up, you idiot. You are better than this!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s nearly dark. The sky is bright orange. Grayson’s breathing is wet and rattling. More blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, staining Damian’s jeans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, Richard,” he whispers. “Please don’t leave me. You cannot leave me. Please.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he loses Grayson, Damian doesn’t know how he’ll be able to function. He cannot lose him. Grayson is his… brother. The first person to truly love him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damian is terrified, shaken in a way he so rarely is. There is nothing, he realizes suddenly, that scares him more than losing Grayson. Nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He curls over Grayson, resting his own forehead lightly against Grayson’s. He is close enough to smell the blood in his hair. Slowly, the sky darkens to purple, while the road remains silent and still. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, Richard,” he begs, “do not leave me.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>whoops hopefully tomorrow will be cuter</p></blockquote></div></div>
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